Wraith
by TheArtisticIntrovert
Summary: What would you do if you're the only one who could hear the whispers of the night? What if you were the only one who knew the shadows? (TW: Self-harm)
1. Chapter 1

Voices. That's all he heard now. Whispering dark promises, and screaming when he ignored them. He wanted them to leave him alone. Just because he was a shadow charmer didn't mean he wanted to have evil ghostly servants.

 _"My lord, please! We will serve you gratefully."_ one of the voices hissed.

"Shut up! Leave me alone!" Seth whimpered, trying not to wake Kendra. The last thing he needed was his oh-so-perfect sister to wake up and find him talking to himself. She'd definitely go and tell Grandma and Grandpa Sorensen that Seth was going insane.

Of course, that'd be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it? The problem child, the delinquent case, the disobedient one, going crazy and talking to things that don't speak. Nevermind he could hear them. Nobody else could, so he must be lying.

 _"My lord, please. We're so hungry! Just let us out, and we'll serve you for eternity... Unlimited power and respect. They'll never doubt you again..."_ the voice promised silkily. Seth shook his head, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He gripped his hair tightly and started rocking back and forth on the bed. "No... No no no no leave me alone..." he begged. He didn't want this. It was cool at first, but then the wraiths came. Hearing voices nobody else can is strange, even at Fablehaven.

He stayed like that for hours, nearly pulling out his hair. Tears leaked out of his eyes in a steady stream. Eventually, the sun rose and light shone into the spotless attic bedroom. Seth stilled.

He climbed out of bed and silently padded to the window. He looked outside and saw fairies flitting around the bushes, showing him that he hadn't slept. Again. He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. They weren't letting him sleep now... If this went on much longer, the rest of his family would start to worry. And it didn't help his parents were supposed to come get them soon. How would he explain this to them? What if they walked in on him arguing with the wraiths?

Seth groaned and dragged a hand down his face before heading to the bathroom to wash up. There was nothing he could do for the circles under his eyes, but he could at least reduce the swelling.

He heard Kendra moving around as he was getting dressed. He ignored her and pulled on his favorite camouflage shirt and a pair of jeans before heading downstairs. He wondered how long he could play his strange behavior off as being tired...

Downstairs, Seth sat at the table and put his head down, exhausted. He must have fell asleep, because Dale had shaken him awake. Seth looked up, bleary-eyed. "Woah, Seth, you okay?" Dale asked, sounding concerned. Seth just nodded, looking away. "Alright… Well you let me know if you need anything, alright?" he said. Seth managed a weak smile and a nod. The voices were louder now that he was closer to the basement.

Dale left soon after that. Seth walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. Downing it in one gulp, he washed the cup and looked outside. The fairies were flitting around the yard, keeping it green and vibrant even in the approaching autumn. He sighed and put the cup away. He wanted to go into the woods, but decided against it. There was nothing useful about getting in trouble.

" _Please, my lord, come visit us."_ a new voice hissed. Seth shook his head. He wouldn't succumb… No matter how far into the madness he already was.

* * *

It's been three weeks since then. Seth hasn't slept more than a couple hours, and Kendra was starting to notice. She kept giving him strange looks when she thought he wouldn't notice. He was forgetting where he put things, snapping at people, lashing out at the satyrs… It wasn't him. His days he spent in the treehouse, his nights curled into a tiny ball on the bed.

He's started turning to pain to dull the voices. That little habit started when he accidentally sliced open his finger on Kendra's razor in the shower, and the voices had gone silent. His new discovery caused him to try it again, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke. That little pocketknife in his emergency kit gained a new purpose.

He made the first cut three days ago. Blood welled up and dripped slowly down his arm. He was fascinated by the deep red liquid. The voices were silent. He cracked a watery smile and washed off the blood.

He started wearing long sleeves all the time. Nobody commented, as it was getting colder. His parents didn't realize he was becoming quieter and more withdrawn. He barely spoke anymore, and didn't participate in pickup games at school.

He had to up the amount of daily cuts to five to keep them quiet. His wrists were scarred and sore, but the voices were quiet. That was good, at least.

* * *

Seth was late today. He had been curled up on the floor, trying to silence the voices. Before he could make the first shaky cut, his mother had knocked sharply on the door. It startled him badly enough that he dragged the knife sloppily over his wrist. "Seth, hurry up! You're going to be late!" she called, before walking away.

Seth sighed in relief as the footsteps receded. He quickly and carefully rinsed off the cut and wrapped it in gauze. He pulled on his shirt and stuffed the knife in his backpack.

He walked out of the bathroom, acting as normally as possible. He couldn't let them know he was slipping. He'd do this himself or not at all.

He slung the backpack over his shoulder and kissed his mother on the cheek before running to catch the bus. He tried not to put pressure on the cuts. He met up with his friends and got on the bus.

* * *

He was sitting outside the school counselor's office. He had fallen and his sleeves had slipped up. The students and some of the staff all saw the bloody gauze on his wrist.

 _~Flashback~_

 _Seth was walking down the hall, chatting with his friends. He tripped over an outstretched foot and went sprawling on the ground. The cut reopened and started bleeding again. Amidst the laughter of his fellow students, he started picking up his books. As he stretched his arm out to grab another notebook, the sleeve of his shirt slipped up._

 _The hall went dead silent. Seth realized too late that he had used his bandaged arm. The bleeding arm. He paled and hurriedly grabbed the book and stuffed it in his backpack before pulling down his sleeve. A teacher pulled him to his feet and sent him to the counselor's office._

 _~End~_

And here he was. Outside the one place he had prayed to never end up at. The door opened, and he was ushered inside. The door closed behind him, and he could faintly hear the lock click.

"Seth, do you know why you're here?" the counselor asked. Seth shook his head, but otherwise stayed silent. The voices were loud enough for all of them. The lady sighed. "Seth, I can't help you if you don't talk to me." she said, sounding disappointed.

"Sorry... It's just... I don't need help." he said, deciding against telling her at the last second. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Seth, if you refuse to cooperate I'll have to report this to the school principal. And I'm sure you don't want that." she said sternly, glaring lightly at him over her glasses.

He looked away. "I'm _fine._ " he hissed angrily, standing up and walking out.

* * *

"Hey, Seth? Can I talk to you for a second?" Kendra asked, poking her head around his door. He looked over at her from his position on the bed.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever..." he replied passively, looking back at the ceiling. She'd probably ask what was wrong, get frustrated, cry, and give up on him. Just like everyone else who wanted to 'talk' to him.

"Seth... You've been acting weird lately. And don't try to deny it, I've seen it. Dale's seen it, we've all seen it. What's wrong, Seth?" she said softly, sitting next to him.

"It's nothing, Kendra. Honest." he replied, managing a weak smile. She glared at him, mouth set in a thin line.

"Seth, I just want to help! I know something's wrong, and I know it probably has something to do with the basement. You can tell me." she snapped, voice softening towards the end.

"Kendra, I told you, I'm _fine._ I'm dealing with it, so don't worry." he hissed, turning to glare at her.

"You're my little brother, Seth! Of course I'm gonna worry! Hell, you haven't gotten a detention or a call home in three months! It's not like you!" she said, standing up suddenly. He sat up and looked at her.

"What, so now I'm in trouble for not getting in trouble?!" he said defensively, feigning anger. He was trying to act normally to get her out, but he felt numb. He wanted the help but... He didn't know how to ask for it.

Kendra sighed. "Seth, don't... That wasn't what I meant." she said. He could tell she was losing ground. Time to go in for the kill.

Silently apologizing in advance, Seth sneered. "Then what do you mean? Just piss off, Kendra. I don't need your help. Not now, not ever. Now get out." he snarled, feeling the guilt weighing in his stomach.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Fine... Just... I don't know why I even tried to help you. You're obviously a lost cause..." she choked out, glaring at him before leaving and slamming the door behind her.

Seth turned over and wiped his eyes. "Sorry, Kendra..." he whispered to himself.

* * *

He's back at Fablehaven now. Cutting isn't helping anymore, not now that he's this close to them. He went through the days like a zombie, barely leaving his room. "Seth? Can you come down here for a minute please?" his grandmother called. He debated ignoring her, but he missed company. He sighed and extracted himself from the blankets, shuffling downstairs.

"Yeah?" he asked, slumping into the chair. He briefly wondered what Grandma, Grandpa, Dale _and_ Kendra were all doing there, but he dismissed it and focused more on keeping out the wraiths.

"Seth, what's wrong. You're not yourself, and don't you dare try to say we're wrong." Dale said, taking a seat across from him.

"I'm fine, honest!" Seth replied, not meeting his eyes. He flinched when a hand grabbed his wrist and pushed up his sleeve.

"Seth... Did you do this to yourself?" Grandpa Sorensen asked, voice low and dangerous. Seth didn't answer, instead trying uselessly to get his arm back.

"Seth Andrew Sorensen!" he snapped, gripping the wrist tighter. Seth let out a pained whimper.

"Okay, yes! I did! But it was only because the w-" he started, cutting himself off. He couldn't tell them. They'd hate him and lock him up for good!

He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Seth... The wraiths?" Kendra asked, looking at him with pity in her eyes.

 _No! Stop looking at me like that, I don't need your pity._

He nodded mutely. "I can hear them, all the time. It doesn't _stop,_ all the _begging_ , and _pleading_... They won't shut up! They just _WON'T!_ I'M _SICK_ OF IT!" he said, voice starting in a mumble but ending in a shriek of hysterical laughter. He wrenched his arm back, gripping his hair. "Don't look at me that way! I _know_! I _know_ this is bad! I know I'm evil! It's not like I can help it! I've been trying _so hard_ but it's not _working_." he hissed, eyes wide. Broken giggles still erupted from his throat every now and again, but they were mixed with sobs now.

"I just want to go back to _normal._ When I didn't hear them even four states away..." he whimpered, dropping his head. There. His secret is out now, what'll they do with it?


	2. Chapter 2

Silence reigned in the room for a good two minutes before Grandpa Sorenson broke it. "Seth… You should've told us this was happening," he said, his face showing only stern disapproval and his tone practically dripping with contempt. Seth's eyes narrowed, and his hands curled into fists.

"No, why should I? It's not like you'd help me! You just care about your stupid treaty and your stupid perfect family. And I don't fit in anywhere in it! I try _so_ hard but none of you trust me anymore!" Seth snarled, gripping the arm of the couch tightly so he didn't impulsively hit someone. The screaming in his head was reaching a new high, and the grating voices of his family trying to defend themselves weren't helping.

"Seth… We do want to help you. We just… We can't do that when you refuse to admit anything's wrong!" Kendra defended, trying to come off gentle and reassuring. Seth turned to face her, gritting his teeth. Something in her speech clicked in his mind, and his eyes widened.

" _You…"_ he hissed, grip tightening. She looked confused.

"Me? What about-" she started, only to cut herself off with a small squeak as he shot to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall.

"YOU! YOU TOLD THEM, HUH? YOU _TOLD THEM_ SOMETHING WAS WRONG!" he yelled, leaving a bloody streak on the wall from where his fist had broken the plaster. "I told you I was fine! You know, that usually means 'Hey, idiot! Drop the fucking topic!' But noooo, you're the oh so _perfect_ Kendra Sorenson, so of _course_ you gotta tell someone the second something seems the slightest bit out of place! What lies did you make up, huh?" he snapped, starting to pace so he didn't punch her in the face like they were oh so _desperately_ urging him to. They didn't sound as… hissy…. as normal, though, but he put a pin in that train of thought, because the other prospect was too terrifying to deal with right now.

"I didn't tell them _any_ lies! All I said was that you were acting weird lately, that's it!" she snapped, rising to her feet as well. Seth refused to let her intimidate him, instead digging his nails deep into his palms. The pain grounded him a bit, helping him focus. Unfortunately, that just made his rage all that clearer.

"Oh, _I'm_ acting weird?! Thanks for finally noticing, it's not like this has been going on for months! I just woke up one day and decided 'Boy it sure feels like a great day to disappoint my family!'" he cried, glaring at her, before scowling. "Oh wait, my mistake, that's _every day!_ " he said, clapping his hands to his cheeks and pouting in mock-regret.

"Seth, that's enough," Stan ordered, standing. "You may be having a rough time, but that's no excuse-" he started, before Seth cut him off, whirling around to face the elder.

"Rough time? _Excuse?!_ I never wanted to tell you this shit in the first place! If I had my way, we wouldn't even be _having_ this conversation, and you'd all still be blissfully ignorant!" he snarled, feeling more and more like a cornered animal the longer this went on. Every lizard-brain instinct was screaming at him to fight back, to escape. When a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind, he sprung into action without thinking and rammed his clenched fist into the person's face.

A satisfying popping sound and the tangy smell of blood let him know he broke their nose, a sharp cry of pain following immediately after. Through the haze clouding his vision, he saw Dale staggering back, clutching his face as blood stained his fingers. Seth growled and was about to make a break for it while everyone was distracted, before something heavy hit him, knocking him out cold.

Kendra dropped the wooden ornament, breathing hard as the adrenaline left her body. Seth had crumpled to the floor, hitting his face on the couch on the way down. He lay still, barely moving. "W-what do we do with him…? He's… I… I don't wanna say this but… He's dangerous. We can't keep him around us, not right now," she said shakily, hands trembling.

Ruth sighed, looking at Seth sadly. "We'll put him in the dungeon, let him cool off a little. It won't be permanent, just until he gets his temper under control," she decided, motioning to Stan for him to help her carry Seth. Dale had snapped his nose back into place, wiping away the blood and wincing.

"I'll go clean up while you two get him situated," he muttered, wandering off to the bathroom. Kendra tagged along with her grandparents, heading to a slightly cleaner corner of the dungeon and opening the door. They arranged Seth on the cot, Stan scowling at his bloodied form before stepping out and locking the door.

"I'll come check on him in an hour. Until then, we should try and figure out what the hell he's going on about, because wraiths don't talk," he said gruffly, turning and leaving the dungeon. Kendra cast one last sorrowful look back at Seth before following them out. She couldn't shake the feeling that this would come back to bite them.

When Seth woke up, it was to total darkness. He groaned as a shooting pain rushed through his head when he tried to sit up, raising a hand to feel the back of his head. A large knot, still sticky with drying blood, was forming.

He winced, looking around and trying to figure out where he was. The bed under him was thin, feeling more of canvas than an actual mattress. As his eyes started to adjust to the dark, he could make out bars on the wall by his feet. Shuffling over to investigate, he scowled when his hands met cold metal. "The basement?! They seriously locked me in the fucking dungeon?!" he whispered, disbelief hitting him like a truck. Did they really trust him so little…? A thought occurred to him as another pain shot through his skull. They must have knocked him out. Hurt, he sunk to his knees on the cold stone of the cell, tears pricking at his eyes.

A familiar hiss curled around his mind, causing him to stiffen. If he was in the basement… Then how close were the wraiths? " _My Lord…. You came for us… Just as we asked…"_ they whispered, sounding pleased, and a bit smug. Seth started to hyperventilate, scrambling back and pressing his back to the corner.

"N-no… I didn't… I _won't…"_ he gasped, pressing his hands to his ears even though he knew it was useless. His breath came in stuttery gasps, tears leaking down his face. Sibilant laughter surrounded him from all sides, mocking his weakness. "G-Go away!" he whimpered, curling up tighter and trying to block them out.

" _We'll never leave you, my lord. Not like your_ _ **family**_ _would…"_ they hissed, soothing and condescending all at once. His arms crept over his head, forearms blocking his ears as his elbows squeezed his knees.

"I don't want you to stay! Go away! What'd I ever do to deserve this?!" he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears ran down his face.

The sound of a heavy door creaking open cut through his muttering, footsteps reaching his ears. He peeked through cracked eyelids, a smile creeping across his face when he saw Stan. "Grandpa Sorensen! Oh thank god you're here! You gotta get me out of here!" he cried gratefully, scrambling over to the bars. He scowled down at Seth, causing his grateful smile to slip off his face as confusion took over. "G-Grandpa Sorensen?" he whispered, grip on the bars loosening.

"You're awake," he said coldly, crossing his arms. His brown eyes hardened into a steely glare, staring down the teenager in front of him. Seth swallowed nervously, trying his hardest to ignore the increasing volume of the laughter.

"A-am I not supposed to be?" he asked, pulling himself up to look Stan in the eyes. Something feels… off. He only vaguely remembered yelling at Kendra, and nothing after that. Stan scowled, looking like he wanted nothing more than to deck Seth right there.

"You were hit pretty hard. I was hoping you'd be out for longer," he replied shortly, glaring into Seth's eyes. He didn't know what was going on, had he done or said something?

"W-why? Who hit me? What happened? And why am I in the basement?!" he asked, wincing as the stress caused his head to start pounding again. "Please, Grandpa Sorenson! You gotta tell me!" he pleaded, yelping when the man suddenly stepped closer to the bars and growled in his face.

"I don't have to tell you shit, you little BRAT! You wanna know what happened so bad? Fine! Here's what happened. You were hiding things from us, lying about hearing voices. When we called you out on it, you freaked out! I had asked how you hurt your arm and you cracked. You started screaming at your sister, and you attacked Dale when he tried to calm you down. His nose is broken now, because of your little tantrum! Kendra had to knock you out before you hurt someone else. And you know why all this happened?! Because YOU wanted attention and started making shit up about wraiths and voices!" he snarled, seeming to loom larger than life.

Seth scrambled back, tripping over a loose shoelace and hitting the ground hard. What had gotten into him?! Grandpa Sorenson was never this angry, not even during the first summer, when Seth opened the house to the dark part of the preserve. "I-I'm _not_ making this up! Do you _really_ think I'd do something like that?!" he snapped, fear giving way to annoyance.

"I don't know, Seth, you tell me! Everybody knows that the undead don't speak. You've been lying to us for months about what you've been feeling, doing, _everything!_ Your parents are talking about putting you in _therapy_ , for god's sake!" Stan snarled, pacing the short hallway outside Seth's cell. _Therapy…? For what?! I'm… I'm not crazy!_

"I don't need therapy! I've been telling the truth about the wraiths this entire time, Grandpa Sorenson! I'm not making it up, they really are talking to me! Please, you have to believe me!" he pleaded, flinching when another bout of mocking laughter started up. Stan just scowled, slamming his palms into the stone next to the metal door.

"WRAITHS. DON'T. TALK! Never have, never will! There's been something weird about you ever since you came back from the forest last summer, but I never suspected you'd go so far as to trying to blame your problems on something that couldn't possibly be responsible," Stan snapped. Seth stood up, scowling. Of _course_ Stan didn't believe him…

"Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe, by some sliver of a miracle, I'm actually telling the truth? That maybe there's some things that can happen that don't fit into what you know about the world?" he said cooly, advancing on the bars and looking up into Stan's eyes. Part of him was telling him to shut up, that making him even angrier wasn't a good idea, but it was drowned out by the cold rage coursing through his veins. "Look, I know you don't trust me, why else would I be talking to you from the wrong side of a jail cell? But please, Grandpa Sorenson, do you _really_ think I'd lie about something as important as this? I'm not that kind of person!" he said, looking up at his grandfather imploringly.

They stared each other down for a long while, long enough for Seth's palms to break out in a cold sweat and a ball of thick dread to settle in his stomach, but finally Stan spoke again. "Fine. I'm not going to let you out, not yet. I still don't trust you to not go berserk like you did earlier, but I will listen to your side of the story. Tell me how the wraiths began talking to you," he acquiesced, shoulders drooping with exhaustion. Seth smiled, before turning to drag the cot over. He settled down, crossing his legs on the thick canvas.

"It all started when I took one of Tanu's courage potions and went to the Haunted Grove last summer…"

"...and then I heard this voice calling me. So I followed it, and it turns out it went to this guy Graulus—you remember Graulus, right?—anyway, I went to his cave. He started saying this thing in a different language then suddenly I understood it? He said I was a shadow charmer, thanks to whatever I did to the revenant. When you took me and Kendra down to the forbidden hall with all the wraiths in it, I was able to hear them. Nobody else could, tho-are you okay?" Seth said, cutting himself off when Stan went pale.

"Did you just say Graulus made you a shadow charmer?" he asked hoarsely. Seth nodded, confused.

"Yeah, why? It's not anything _bad,_ what's the big de-ACK!" he said, yelping and jumping back when Stan shot to his feet suddenly. "Grandpa Sorenson? W-What's wrong? Hey, quit ignoring me!" Stan stumbled out of the basement, turning a deaf ear to Seth's cries. Seth ran to the bars, shouting for Stan to come back. He yelled until his voice gave out, and then he resorted to banging on the bars until his hands bled. Anything to drown out the whispering that was starting to return.

Stan stumbled upstairs, pouring himself a large glass of whiskey and downing half of it in one gulp before collapsing in a chair with the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other. "Shadow charmer… Why'd he have to be a _shadow charmer?!"_ he whispered harshly, still shaken.

"What's a shadow charmer?" Kendra asked, having just come into the kitchen. Stan jumped, nearly spilling his drink. "Sorry for scaring you. Anyway, what's a shadow charmer, and what's it have to do with Seth?" she said, pulling up a chair across from Stan.

Stan swallowed roughly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He took another swig of whiskey before answering. "You know how you're fairykind?" he asked. She nodded, confused. "A shadow charmer is basically the opposite. They're cloaked in darkness, consorting with all kinds of dark creatures. They're immune to emotion manipulation, too, like magical guilt and fear. Seth met with one of the most dangerous demons on this preserve, Graulus. Graulus made him into a shadow charmer," he explained, his voice hollow and mechanical. Kendra gasped, one hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"S-Seth made a deal with a demon?" she whispered, sounding absolutely horrified. Stan nodded, looking like he'd aged thirty years in the last ten seconds.

"I'm afraid he did. I think we need a change of plans. I don't feel comfortable letting him out right now." He drained the rest of the glass, pouring another. "Not until I know what he's capable of."


End file.
